A Straight Antarian Cider Night
by PixieKayGirl
Summary: Tonight she's only sipping white wine. She's friendly and fun-loving most of the time. But don't ask her on a straight Antarian cider night - she'll start thinking about him, and she's ready to fight. (Technically a DS9 crossover, but no more than the Voyager pilot is. In other words, it takes place in Quark's bar.)


_If you didn't realize from the title, this is based on the country song "A Straight Tequila Night." Technically, it could be listed as a crossover with DS9, but I didn't want to list it that way because it's no more a crossover than the pilot of Voyager is, and while containing one beloved bartender, it's still really a J/C Voyager story. Enjoy!_

"Please, sir, I know I'm ready," the young Ferengi whined.

Quark paused his movements, but didn't turn to the boy. "Zazz, we've already discussed this." He resumed wiping down the bar.

"But how am I supposed to be ready to take over the business when you die if you won't let me practice when you're still here to guide me with your excellent wisdom?"

This time Quark did drop the rag on the counter and turn to his protege, arms crossed and face stern. "Well, I can see you've been practicing some things at least. Flattery, wheedling…" Then his face broke into a smile and he clapped the boy on both arms. "I'm so proud! Alright, you've convinced me you could be ready. I'll hang back tonight, mostly observing, and you run the bar. But-" he added, holding up a cautioning index finger, "if I see you doing anything that might jeopardize my profits, I reserve all rights to step back in and, if necessary, fire you from your apprenticeship!"

=/\=

Zazz was handling the bar like a pro. Quark watched with a bemused smile. He wasn't sure the boy would be able to actually take over one day - after all, he still had a good many years left there himself. But he was sure that, under Quark's own superior guidance, he would be capable of opening his own fine establishment one day. Preferably an establishment Quark could collect a good chunk of the profits from.

When Zazz noticed a prospective patron watching another patron, but not actually ordering anything, he did what any good bartender would do, and engaged the man in conversation. He also did what any good Ferengi would do, and started encouraging the man to make a purchase. He did, however, miss something crucial. Quark nearly stepped up and stopped the boy, but then changed his mind, and stood back to watch. After all, sometimes mistakes are better teachers than instruction.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Zazz asked, following the patron's gaze to the woman he was watching.

Deep dimples punctuated the man's smile as he said, "Absolutely."

"Do you recognize her?"

With a soft laugh, the man said, "Yes, I believe so."

"Of course. Who in the Federation wouldn't recognize Kathryn Janeway? Her triumphant return with Voyager from the Delta Quadrant is the stuff of legends! She's here on leave, and has been coming here every night since she arrived. She loves to be among people, and to dance when the jukebox has good tunes on, but she never comes or leaves with anyone." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Recovering from a broken heart. You know how it is." He then pulled back and sized the man up before saying, "And you know, you might just be the man to cure it . . . if you know the right ways to get to her."

Quark noticed, but wasn't sure Zazz did, when the man's lips twitched and he very patiently asked, "And what is the right way?"

Zazz tapped the counter. "Now, I'm a friendly guy and always happy to share information, but you know . . . technically, you aren't even a paying customer right now."

The man obligingly handed a strip of latinum to the Ferengi, who coughed politely in response. "Um, I'm not sure you know what information costs."

"Since I'm fairly certain any information you have will involve at least one more purchase, minimum, wouldn't it be in your best interest to share it anyway?"

Zazz froze for a moment, and despite being no relation, the expression on the boy's face reminded Quark exactly of his own nephew at that age. But then he recovered and said, "Well, you know, I do think the information is more valuable than any minor purchases that might be involved, but since I am such a kind Ferengi, I'll tell you anyway.

"You see what she's drinking?"

"Looks like white wine."

"Exactly. Sipping it, to be precise. On a night like tonight, just casually sipping her wine, it's safe. I recommend buying her a fresh glass and playing song 13 from the jukebox - that's her favorite, so if you ask, she'll probably dance with you."

The man latched onto a word from the middle of that speech and asked, "Safe?"

"You see, there have been at least two instances in which she . . . well, sort of lost it. Oh, not so much that you wouldn't want to approach her tonight! Just yelled at someone who asked her to dance. On both those nights she was drinking faster, and something different. So ask her to dance tonight, chat with her, try to get her comfortable. But if you ever come back and see her again, don't ask her on a straight Antarian cider night. Those nights, she doesn't sip, she guzzles, and she blames her broken heart on any and every man in sight."

The man nodded once and looked thoughtfully at the newly returned and well-honored captain who preferred to sit by herself in a bar at the far reaches of Federation space than in the numerous honoring banquets heralding her return back on Earth. Then he turned back to Zazz and said, "I have taken your advice under advisement. I would like to request-" Zazz was already reaching to pour another white wine when the man finished his sentence- "a bottle of Antarian cider."

Zazz nearly dropped the glass from his hand as he looked back. "A-a-I'm so sorry, sir, you must have misunderstood. I meant that when she-"

"I didn't misunderstand. I would like to buy a bottle of Antarian cider."

"But - but-"

Now Quark could no longer stand by, and finally spoke up. "Do it, Zazz."

"Y-yes, sir," he mumbled and passed the man a full bottle of the cider and two glasses, in exchange for the latinum he passed back across to him. Then he watched, dumbfounded, as the man sauntered across the room, started song number 13 on the jukebox, and then approached the woman.

=/\=

"But sir," Zazz protested once the customer was out of the range of human hearing, "when a customer dies, the money stops coming, right? And you know what she's like on Antarian cider!"

Quark nodded approvingly. "Very good! Rule of Acquisition 205. But allow me to remind you of Rule of Acquisition 194: it's always good business to know about new customers before they walk through the door."

"But . . . but how could I have known about him?"

"Zazz, not a single person ever steps foot on this station who I don't immediately find out everything about that I possibly can. But even beyond that, if you can recite that much about the return of Voyager you should certainly be able to identify that man."

"But how-?" Suddenly, Zazz's eyes grew wide. "That . . . that's him, isn't it?"

"Let's just say, I strongly recommend you keep your ears open and your mouth shut for a bit."

=/\=

Kathryn Janeway swirled her wine slowly in her glass before taking another small sip from it. The music in Quark's bar changed to a lovely yet upbeat Betazoid tune that she loved, and she could hardly help but start swaying to it. She was just debating whether to look around for a partner, or simply get up and dance on her own, when a thunk on her table had the wine in the glass she'd just set down vibrating and her own body freezing in place. The thunk came from a bottle being set heavily on the table. A bottle of Antarian cider. She knew for certain that rumors had spread throughout the stations about her temper that had emerged when she'd had Antarian cider a couple times recently, so even if she hadn't already known that he'd arrived at the station earlier that day, she would have known exactly whose hand had plunked it down there. Only one man would buy her, not just Antarian cider, but an entire bottle of it. So without looking up, she asked calmly, "So Neelix never did find your stash, huh?"

"Nope," came his smooth, low voice in reply. "But this isn't from that stash. Do you really think a Ferengi bartender would have allowed me to bring my own bottle of anything into his establishment?" He slid into the chair across from her and poured the contents of the already-uncorked bottle into the fresh glasses he'd brought over with him.

"I'm honestly surprised that a Ferengi bartender would allow you to purchase something that probably is known to have potential to drive customers away. I'm sure there's a Rule of Acquisition about that." For the first time, she allowed her gaze to drift from her fingers toying with the side of her wine glass, across the table, and up toward his face as she reached toward his hand to accept this new glass from him.

"Actually, the kid who seems to be training under him almost didn't, but he insisted."

"Hmm. Wonder why," she murmured in a tone that indicated no such curiosity.

"Probably hoping for a fight that will draw a crowd," he returned lightly. She snorted softly at that.

"Seven?"

"You already know."

"I want to hear it from you."

He took a sip of the cider, made a slight face that seemed to indicate it wasn't the quality he would have hoped for, and then said, "We went our separate ways shortly after being released for leave. Maybe in the Delta quadrant it would have worked. Everyone had something in common on that ship, the common goal of returning home. But here . . . there's nothing."

Kathryn took a sip of her own cider, not really tasting it, before asking, "Did you hurt her?"

"I don't think so, no."

"Did she hurt you?" Somehow, she felt a little less confident in this question, and she wasn't entirely sure if it was because she was hoping the answer was yes or no. No would indicate that his feelings were never deeply involved with Seven. Yes would seem like something he deserved for all this. She hated that vindictive feeling though. It wasn't like her.

"No," he replied simply. "I hurt myself."

"How so?"

He paused half a moment before he said softly, "The same way I hurt you. I gave up on us, thought that maybe waiting forever was just a little too long, and turned to someone else literally days before we actually made it back. I should have waited just a little longer."

She stared into her drink as he said these words, and for many seconds after that, before she slowly reached across the table and took his hand, then just as slowly raised her eyes back to his. "Maybe that was wrong. Maybe it was pain neither of us should have had to endure on top of everything else." He swallowed and nodded, looking very guilty. She didn't leave him that way for long. "Or maybe it was right. Maybe it was a little bit of a break we needed from each other to be able to come back stronger. To realize just how much we really do need each other."

Gradually, she lifted their joined hands, turned them palm to palm, and laced their fingers just as they had done many years earlier on New Earth. "All I know is that it's all in the past. Right now I'm a lot more interested in the future."

Her heart caught at the sight of his dimples coming back into view. "Does that mean I'm forgiven?" he asked hopefully.

"Assuming I'm forgiven for every bit of crap I put you through, I think I can manage to forgive for this one little detail."

"Crap? What crap? All I remember is the strong and beautiful warrior who saved an angry warrior from himself."

Her own smile widened. "Then I suppose that's all we need to remember."

After another beat, he asked softly, "Am I allowed to kiss you now?"

She continued smiling but shook her head slightly, murmuring, "I'm sure the excellent hearing of the two Ferengi behind the bar has led to more than enough interesting understanding of this conversation. I'd rather continue in private - at least for now."

"That sounds good too."

"Shall we go back to my room?"

"That sounds even better."

She stood, not releasing his hand as he rose too, but they barely made it two steps before she glanced back at him and said, "Bring the cider."

And hand in hand, with a bottle of cider tucked under his other arm, they walked out of the bar onto the promenade, pausing only briefly to each direct a small wink toward two Ferengi, the younger of whom stood with his mouth dropped open, as the elder stood casually wiping a glass with a cloth and trying to hide his very pleased smile.


End file.
